Namimori's Sweethearts
by Working-On-Sanity
Summary: Yamamoto can't understand why Gokudera blushes, so he goes to Reborn for an explanation. Reborn's advice is to get to know Gokudera better - in more ways than friendship, perhaps. The more time Yamamoto spends with Gokudera, the more he hurts his friends.


**NAMIMORI'S SWEETHEARTS **

**WARNINGS: **soft shonen-ai/boy's love, out-of-characterness

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I've liked the series _Katekyo Hitman Reborn! _for quite some time, now, but I've never actually liked a pairing enough to write a fanfiction about them. Gokudera has been my favorite character from the start of the series, though I've always seen him as a submissive rather than someone's dominant... Anyway, I've recently gotten into 8059 (as well as 2759) so now, I curse you with this fiction.

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><p><strong>A friend is what the heart needs all the time.<strong>

**- Henry Van Dyke**

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><p>Gokudera intently observed Yamamoto's motions, surveying the way the tall teenager laughed with amusement as he wrapped his arm around Tsunayoshi's thin shoulders. He wasn't fond of how easily the brunette managed to interact with Tsuna, but despite his irritating friendliness, there was a heavy aura of confidence about Yamamoto that made Gokudera anxious.<p>

"What's with the face, Gokudera?" the athlete questioned cheerfully, oblivious to Tsuna's choked protests toward his energetic embrace.

"You shouldn't be treating the Tenth so roughly," Gokudera chided in a muttered, low tone, glancing away from Yamamoto's glinting hazel eyes. "It isn't becoming – and anyway, he can't eat with you squeezing the breath out of him."

Yamamoto paused in his laughter briefly, before breaking into another round of rumbling chuckles. "I wish I could show that kind of devotion to my schoolwork," he commented, his patient smile stretching across his olive-tan face. "You always make sure your friends are doing okay, don't you?"

"If you focused on more important things, then maybe you could succeed in getting an actual education," the silver-haired boy droned haughtily. He turned his head adamantly, jerking his plastic lunchbox closer to his knee and forcefully snapping his chopsticks apart.

"Hey – don't be so angry all the time, Hayato!" The brunette picked a foil-covered parcel from his own bento box, peeling the wrapping away to expose a small heap of sweet dumplings. In one quick move, his reflexes seemingly quicker than normal, he swiped his finger through the red sugar syrup and leaned over Gokudera's shoulder, poking the sticky digit against the Italian's soft lips.

"Guh – Yama – you – _T-Tenth_!" Gokudera wailed, the pitiful sound ragged with embarrassment and rage. The freckles on his curved cheeks seemed to fade beneath the intensity of the furious flush that powdered his face; raking his wrist over his sticky mouth, he fumbled to push himself up to his feet, racing to crouch beside Tsuna.

"Why is it that you two can't even eat lunch together without arguing?" the red-haired student inquired softly, as though fearful of contradiction - surprisingly, neither of his companions objected verbally, choosing instead to sulk over their interrupted skirmish.

"I'm sorry, Tsuna," Yamamoto apologized comfortably; that same awkward grin brightened his features and caused a nauseating wrenching of Gokudera's stomach. He chose to ignore the sensation in its entirety – somehow, the small ache in his midsection felt so much worse than the sickness that befell him whenever he chanced to gaze at his elder sister's face.

"And sorry for upsetting you, Gokudera," the sportsman added, scraping his fingernail over his bronze cheek nervously.

"You... you want half my dessert?" he offered in penance, nudging the plate of bean paste dumplings closer to the trembling fourteen-year-old.

Gokudera leaped upwards, a tube of dynamite clattering from the sleeve of his jacket with the unexpected movement. Smacking his hand over his eyes to hide the film of moisture that glazed the charcoal-gray orbs, he snatched up his knapsack and fled down the staircase. The noisy slapping of the soles of his thong sandals hitting the concrete ground echoed loudly in the atmosphere, fading away into silence.

Tsuna directed a timidly-disapproving glance toward his companion, wordlessly biting into the side of his sandwich.

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><p>"I don't get it, Reborn," Yamamoto stated, exhaling deeply: "No matter what I do, Gokudera always gets offended by it. Tsuna doesn't understand, either – Gokudera never gets upset over the crazy things that <em>he <em>does."

Reborn's tiny, cat-like mouth bent in a thoughtful frown. "Gokudera is terrible at hiding his expressions," he informed, as if that explained everything. "That's why he refuses to look you in the eye."

The brunette tilted his head curiously, staring at the infant in surprise. "Why should he hide his expression?" he asked, almost scornful of the prospect. "I only want to be friends with him. He keeps saying that I'm after his position – he's really into that yakuza stuff with Tsuna."

Reborn smiled at the athlete's apparent naivete as he lifted his hand, stroking his chubby fingers across Leon's scaly side. The chameleon's amber eyes caught the shafts of sunlight, the honey-colored orbs glittering with contentment as he rested on the wide brim of the Italian's fedora.

"Are you really that inexperienced at reading people?" Reborn wondered flatly. "Instead of letting your mind wander when you're with your friends, try to watch them closely. Put yourself in Gokudera's place. See if you can figure out his thought pattern."

Yamamoto chuckled at how wise the child's words were, despite his being so young.

"That doesn't tell me much," he admitted honestly. "I've never been great at putting myself in others' shoes." He idly raised the carton of milk to his lips, swallowing the cold liquid greedily before slamming the container to the seat of the bench.

"You aren't as dense as you like people to think you are, Yamamoto," Reborn chided, staring upwards at the baseball-player. His ebony, button-like eyes shone with intelligence, captivating Yamamoto's attention and, not for the first time, his respect.

"If you want it in a simple sentence," the tutor began patiently: "Gokudera thinks of you in a way he doesn't think of even Tsuna. He might consider Tsuna as someone who is higher than you in more ways than one, but even so, he still holds you in a special place all your own. From what I've seen, you embarrass Gokudera constantly – not because of anything _you _do, but because of how he thinks of you."

Yamamoto blinked with surprise, his smooth forehead creasing with confusion at the complicated lecture. "How does he think of me? Even I can tell how he fawns over Tsuna – but what does he consider _me _to be?"

Reborn shrugged, his short, curled tendrils of hair bouncing lightly with the motion. "Don't come to me for everything, Yamamoto. Find Gokudera and ask _him_ about it. Maybe if you allowed him to initiate the conversation, though, instead of yourself, you might actually get somewhere with him."

"So... you mean that I should just let him talk? Or – hey! Don't leave just yet," the brunette protested, as Reborn waved innocently and bade him a drowsy-sounding, "Ciao-ciao."

Yamamoto exhaled in uncharacteristic exasperation, watching helplessly as the tuxedo-clad infant meandered sleepily from the gym to find his pupil's whereabouts.

_Talk to Gokudera, huh? _Resolving to do as Reborn had recommended, despite his being unsure of how the situation could turn, the athlete stood from the bench to follow the hitman in search of his companions.

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><p>Gokudera idly scanned the yellowed, aged page of the psychology textbook, the bridge of his nose crinkling with disgust at the continuous list of information on the subject of personality disorders. His assignments had nothing to do with such; he was merely curious as to what might have been the underlying cause of his problem.<p>

"Bipolarity?" he read out loud, his expression souring. There was simply too much to memorize – he had leafed through several thick tomes, but no material had given him the answer to what he desired to know.

"Hayato!"

Gokudera cringed at the cheerful, unmistakable voice, and hurried to close the books. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to be seen reading something such as he had been, especially by Yamamoto. He folded his arms over his notebook, lowering his chin to rest on his prominent wrists as the baseball-player stepped into the information section of the silent library.

"There you are, Gokudera," Yamamoto smiled broadly, easily yanking a chair from beneath the table and seating himself without invitation. After that greeting, oddly, he said nothing more, choosing instead to stare expectantly at the aqua-eyed teenager, as though waiting for something out of the ordinary.

"What do you _want_?" Gokudera groaned, feeling the intent gaze sear the side of his face. He pressed his forehead flush against the graphite-scratched surface of the notebook, clenching his teeth against a pained whine – why was it that, no matter where he attempted to seclude himself, Yamamoto managed to discover him?

"I didn't know that people like you ever visited the library," the silver-haired boy murmured insultingly. He only wanted that intense look to be removed from his presence – why wouldn't Yamamoto reply, or even appear to be irritated?

His answer came by way of a laugh-rippled observation: "You know, you're funny. Actually, people like me probably come here more often than the smart ones like you – we have to study harder just to make sure we pass examinations. You're so smart that you probably come here just for fun," he chuckled.

Gokudera frowned, wincing as heat prickled his neck in the form of a blush at the compliment. He buried his nose further into his forearms, praying that the redness creeping into his cheeks would soon fade away, unnoticed.

"Ah, I'm sorry," Yamamoto sighed, for the second time that afternoon. "Don't get upset, okay? I didn't mean anything by it – look, I was talking to Reborn, and he mentioned some things about you."

"Reborn-san?" Gokudera repeated blankly, as though the prospect of the mafia-leader speaking of him was unheard of. "What was he saying? It wasn't... anything about inadequate performance as a subordinate, was it?"

"Nothing like that," Yamamoto assured, the agitated, broken dullness in the foreigner's eyes startling him. "Playing mafia is fun, but you don't have to look so worried. He was only telling me about what you think of Tsuna and I."

Gokudera swallowed back the panic that welled in his throat, afraid to imagine what Reborn had claimed was in his mind. It only made him more nauseated to realize that, no matter whose thoughts the infant delved into, he was nearly always correct.

"And what did he tell you?" he asked nastily, his canine teeth flashing with self-defensive anger. "I'm sure I'm the one who knows what I'm thinking, not Reborn-san!" Normally, he would have never growled out such words of disrespect toward his authority, but having Yamamoto sitting so close to him, spouting assumptions, was more than he could bear silently.

Not intimidated in the least, Yamamoto tilted his chair forward on its front legs, his face so near to Gokudera's that the Italian could see the flecks of gold in his hazel-brown eyes.

"He mentioned something about you thinking of me in a way that you don't think of anyone else. He said that you like Tsuna in a different way than me – so I wanted to ask what that meant. What kind of 'different'? Like, you consider me a friend? Or a crony? Or maybe a threat?" He peered earnestly into Gokudera's hazy orbs of aqua, as though searching for the reason of this whole ordeal.

"I – I don't... may – maybe a..." Gokudera knew, this time, that the redness blooming in his face was highly visible. The tears of frustration festered in the corners of his eyes as his expression crumpled, not having anticipated being trapped in a position like he was.

"I don't think of you as a threat, anymore," he mumbled quietly, ducking his head quickly to hide his moisture-clouded orbs of turquoise from view. His mercury-colored bangs slipped from behind his ear to curtain the side of his heated face, and he made no move to brush the tangled locks away.

"If not a threat to you and Tsuna, then what?" Eagerly, Yamamoto pinched Gokudera's chin between his forefinger and thumb, tugging his jaw upwards to stare at his flushed, teary features, unknowing of the ache that burrowed itself into the boy's stomach at the contact.

"Ah... Yamamoto!" Forcefully, Gokudera willed a frightening power into the palm of his hand, smacking the athlete away with the greatest amount of strength he could summon. Yamamoto fell backwards against the support of his chair, grimacing as the impact rattled through his spine.

Gokudera sank his teeth into his lower lip, embarrassed at what he had just committed against the well-meaning junior-high student. Yamamoto had held no ill intentions toward him - why was it that he was so weak? He could barely harness his negative emotions toward strangers that bothered him, let alone Yamamoto.

"Wow, Hayato..." the brunette massaged his callused fingertips into the burning smudge of crimson, exhaling in a prolonged hiss of pain, "you might pack a bigger punch in your fist than in all those firecrackers you carry around."

For the second time that day, Gokudera fled, abandoning his knapsack and books to seek refuge in the desolate confines of the alleyway.

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><p>All during the torturous class hours of the next morning, Gokudera couldn't bear to let his gaze fall on any evidence of Yamamoto Takeshi's existence. The ballplayer's contented bouts of laughter were punishment enough, constantly bringing to Gokudera's mind the way his fist had slammed into Yamamoto's smooth cheek.<p>

And to make matters that much worse, Lambo had clung desperately to Tsuna's knee all during their lunch period, continuously shedding fake tears and blubbering incoherent nonsense. I-Pin had not helped that situation, either, merely shrieking Chinese phrases at Lambo and returning the insults he hurled at her.

"You are easily irritated, Gokudera." Reborn nudged the Italian's shoulder with the barrel of his Deathperation pistol, his mouth curved in his default expression of a small, amused smile. The infant seemed to be unaffected by the racket that filled the classroom, masterfully ignoring the sobs that Lambo choked out.

"I - I'm sorry, Reborn-san," Gokudera apologized meekly, closing his teeth over his tongue to prevent himself from verbally attacking the two squabbling children. He growled spitefully, yanking his legs up to hug his thighs against his chest, out of I-Pin's reach. The tiny Chinese girl dashed beneath the rungs of his chair, the intricate seals on her wide forehead rapidly depleting.

"Aw, come on, Gokudera!" Yamamoto looped his arm easily around the others' shoulders, lightly jostling Gokudera's small body as if shaking the tension from his slender frame.

"You don't need to get ticked off about every little thing that happens - they're just kids, playing around. You shouldn't hurt them," he advised, his sentence trailing off as he glanced down. I-Pin wrapped her short arms around his shin, pressing her round cheek against his knee as she tensed.

"Yamamoto!" Tsuna cried - he pushed past Gokudera, bending down in front of Yamamoto to attempt freeing the stubbornly-clinging I-Pin from his leg. Two pin seals remained; despite his devotion to his self-proclaimed 'leader', Gokudera felt no inclination to assist him.

He hefted his navy backpack over his shoulder, thrusting his fingers into the taut hip pockets of his slacks as he sauntered from the room.

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><p>Outside, on top of the school building, was Gokudera's favorite place to enjoy his lunch. The sunlight bounced off the metal structure, warming the entire floor and making for a comforting place of solitude.<p>

Although he would have rather been accompanied by Tsuna and Yamamoto, he refused to let his desires twist his stomach into a sickening cramp - he could spend the next fifteen minutes alone, as he had done numerous times before.

Slowly picking the crust from the edge of his lettuce sandwich, he poked the tiny pieces between his lips, chewing sedately. He continued to nibble at his meal in the same way, until his small bento box had been emptied; he lounged on the roof for several minutes longer, not concerned with his tardiness for his physical education class.

"Gokudera, neglect of schoolwork will not be tolerated," a nasal, high-pitched voice scolded.

The subordinate started from his dozing, fazed by the unexpected interruption. As his vision focused and the image of the tiny hitman sharpened, he immediately bounced up, clumsily gathering his belongings.

"I'm sorry, Reborn-san," he muttered, flustered at being caught. Reborn stepped closer to him, his miniature body becoming engulfed in Gokudera's stretched shadow.

"You've been doing a lot of apologizing, lately." The black-haired child tilted his head, displaying an attitude of innocent curiosity that was certainly a ploy. "Why have you been indifferent toward your duties? If you continue to slack, like you did downstairs, leaving everyone to handle a problem themselves, then Tsuna may never truly accept you as his right-hand man."

Gokudera sank to his knees, crouching until he was nearly level with Reborn's height. Pearls of liquid trembled in the corners of his gray eyes as he battled the sudden constricting of his throat - he let his brow touch the concrete ground, a strange kind of despair settling in his chest as he swallowed back the tears.

"R - Reborn-san..." he muttered thickly, his voice clogged and wavering, "please help me earn my place. The Tenth _has _to accept me over Yamamoto! That... Yamamoto doesn't even take anything seriously... I can do so much better than he can..."

Reborn gently patted Gokudera's mop of nickel-colored hair, in a silent method of comforting. But when he spoke, there was nothing assuring in his words: "You are the biggest brat I've ever seen. Selfish and not concerned with anything except your image and what people think of you."

The foreign student glanced up at the apparent insult, disbelief masking his face as he listened to the string of adjectives that described his personality so well. He hadn't anticipated hearing anything such as that - but from Reborn, it hurt more than it would have from someone else.

"You want to know what _I _think of you?" the tutor continued. "I think that you have potential to be a reliable, helpful assistant to the Vongola. But as long as you choose to sulk over your rivalry with Yamamoto - the rivalry that could possibly be a help to you - you will never accomplish anything for Tsuna."

He never stopped stroking his palm over the silky rumples, but despite the tender gesture, his stabbing commentary quickly became more detailed.

"I was talking with Yamamoto about you. He doesn't want anything of yours, Gokudera - he doesn't want to take your place. He's perfectly happy with where he is, and you still make yourself miserable over it. You obsess over being Tsuna's apprentice, to the point where you abandon commonsense. What if Yamamoto was able to save Tsuna in a situation where you could not? Would you sacrifice the Tenth just so you could have something _you _want?"

Gokudera clenched his fists, his cheeks paling as every one of his negative traits and wrong thoughts came to mind. Tsuna and Yamamoto were patient with him - especially Yamamoto. He seldom fought back; he was so carefree, as though everything always went his way.

Was that the reason why Tsuna seemed to favor him?

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><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>I thought it was going to be a one-shot in the 2,000 word range... it is growing... and it isn't over. I kept trying to continue it from here, but I couldn't really get that to work, so I'm working on a second chapter.

Since this is my first _Katekyo Hitman Reborn! _fiction, I wanted to include a lot of the characters that were first introduced into Tsuna's family, like I-Pin, Lambo, and Bianchi, not just Yamamoto and Gokudera. (There should be 8059 in here somewhere.)

Final word: this is set in the beginning of the series, not too long after Reborn's training with Yamamoto and Gokudera. And despite this being my first fiction, and I am not yet comfortable with writing any of the characters, I realize that Gokudera (and everyone else) is somewhat out of character. But Gokudera is the submissive, so I wanted to make him... submissive? I made him cry.

Note: Although 'Judaime' is translated to 'Boss' in the Viz translation, it more closely means 'the Tenth', or something along those lines. From what little I know of Japanese, I know that 'juu' means 'ten.'

Thanks for putting up with this, and if you have critique or suggestions, don't be afraid to leave me a review!


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